Losing It
by UchidaKarasu
Summary: Itachi had been thirteen when he lost it, and he had been thirteen when he had it taken from him." M for rape and shouta. ShisuixItachi, MadaraxItachi.


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**-Losing It-**

**UchidaKarasu**

**-**

Itachi had been thirteen when he lost it.

He had just gotten the news, _the news_, and his entire world had finally come to an end. Everything that he had worked for and bled for was going to be all voided, because in only a month and maybe even less, Itachi would have to slaughter the entirety of the family that he had always known. His aunts and uncles were going to die. His mother and father were going to die. His cousins were going to die. His grandparents were going to die. _Sasuke_ was going to die.

And Itachi had known that when they were all dead, he would put the katana against his own throat and pull as hard as he could. In the end, Itachi would die too, because that was what the village wanted. It was what Itachi had been _ordered_ to do.

He loved his village. So very, very much. So much that he was willing to go on a suicide mission that involved killing everyone with the same last name as himself and then making sure that he died by his own hand when he was done. The Uchiha was taking their last breaths, unknowingly and without thought, not sensing and understanding that they were on their deathbeds, just on the cusp of extermination. They just kept going, plotting their coup d'état in their lust for power and control and killing the men and women and children of other villages in the sake of the Clan.

He had lost it with Shisui, who had been his first cousin and his best friend, but Itachi hadn't given any care to it, knowing that he was going to hell anyway and Shisui was just along for the ride. So together, in the darkness of an alcove on a secret and sacred Uchiha meeting ground, they had explored everything that the other had to offer. All night long, a sixteen-year-old and a thirteen-year-old had coupled together, breathing and tasting and hearing and smelling and seeing and _feeling_. All night long they had met with harsh thrusts and heavy pants, knowing lust and then pain and then pleasure yet again. They had fucked and had sex and had made love, with saliva and blood and the essence of want, coating slick walls and needy digits and throbbing organs and clever tongues, permeating the air with the heady scent of sex and sweat. On that stone alcove, they had consumed each other, not caring that it was inbreeding or unnatural or masculine, but instead wanting nothing more than to take and give and _feel_.

One night, one night alone, and that was all Itachi had really needed. He had given himself in the most vulnerable of ways, on a whim that had an ulterior motive because that was what Itachi was the best at. In the end, he had gotten to experience what no thirteen-year-old child should ever experience, especially with such a close cousin by blood and another male no doubt, and he had also got Shisui to do what he wanted. And what Itachi had wanted was the sixteen-year-old distancing himself away from Itachi, so the suspicion would taper off and he wouldn't have to deal with the questions. By giving himself away to Shisui, he had had immunity in the Clan, because Itachi knew that his cousin and best friend had been spying on him for information, and now Shisui wouldn't dare say anything to the Council of Uchiha about his shady correspondence. Because they would know the sins Shisui had committed with Itachi, and he would no longer be trusted, and would no longer be in the running for stealing the position of Clan Head that Itachi would soon be known as. That is, if the Uchiha were to survive another two to three years.

Killing them all off was worth it, in the end. War was hell, and if there was one thing that Itachi refused to let happen, it was making Sasuke live through war. He cared so much for that little eight-year-old kid, so much that he was willing to slit the child's throat just to save him from death and destruction and murder.

But the longer he had thought about it, he realised that he wouldn't be able to do it alone. He wouldn't. He _wouldn't_. He would die before the mission had been carried out, and that wouldn't do at all. Itachi's mother and father and then his little brother would be the last to die, because Itachi didn't know if he would be able to continue on killing if Sasuke was dead. He loved that little kid with all of his heart, at least all of the heart he had left, and the only murdering he would be doing after he killed Sasuke would be of his own accord and unto his own skin.

Shady correspondence, indeed. Digging around for two weeks was painstaking and time consuming and he had to keep it completely secret from both the Hokage and Uchiha, because both would frown upon his searching. The Hokage would be disbelieving and then angry and frightened and unforgiving because for all the village knew, Uchiha Madara was dead with the rain and the river and the stone. Uchiha Madara, of legend and fear, of the Kyuubi no Yōku. As for the Uchiha, they would've tried to take advantage of Madara's hate of the village and the coup d'état would escalate to a point that Itachi wouldn't have been able to counter. Therefore, Itachi had to be silent, had to be secret, had to do it in such a way that there wouldn't be an error. Itachi couldn't leave a single hair of room for error. It had to be executed perfectly or he would fail and Sasuke would live through war and die in the name of the shinobi code.

But the work that he put into finding Uchiha Madara was not in vain, and when he had received correspondence to meet the man, face-to-face, he did not hesitate to send back a simple confirmation about meeting deep in the forest, where there were no ANBU border control and no chance of running into wayward shinobi on their way out and back into the village. There would be no civilian interference, and so there would be nothing to disturb such a secret meeting, nothing to listen and hear and see with their own unspecial eyes.

Itachi had been thirteen when he lost it, and he had been thirteen when he had it taken from him.

The meeting had gone almost to plan, almost to the letter. Cautious greetings, a run-down about the mission Itachi had been assigned, Madara's sadistic amusement that the Uchiha Clan was finally getting what it had _rightfully earned_ by being puppets for the village, Itachi's deal, Madara agreeing to help with the assassination of the Uchiha in return for Konohagakure's immunity of Madara's wrath in the future. In the end, Konohagakure was saved from another war of Madara's doing and the Uchiha was the price.

Itachi hadn't expected that Madara would have conditions. Two conditions, actually. One leading to Itachi disobeying a direct order from the Hokage and the other leading to Itachi disobeying a direct order from himself.

_I'll do this for you if you do something for me. And since it's such a big thing that you're asking me to do, I think I'd like two things_, he had said in his deep, husky timbre that always sounded like he was teasing and thinking something far worse than he was letting on, and Itachi had had a feeling that it would end up exactly what he had theorised and expected in his mind. Madara had continued on, his voice slightly muffled by the orange mask that covered his face: _I know that you are aware of my involvement in an organisation called Akatsuki, and I think that your...unique skills would be very beneficial to the mission that I'm striving for. If you agree to this, I'll do what you wish._

Itachi had thought and thought and decided that he couldn't do it, because he had to obey the Hokage at all costs, but he knew that he needed Madara's own unique set of skills and had to think it over very carefully. Instead of giving the affirmative and letting Madara have what he wanted, he had decided to just give a noncommittal noise and told him that he'd have to think about it, because he didn't like disobeying his village.

_Fine_, the masked man had said with darkness laced in that slithering voice, _I'm just going to have to take my last requirement right now, as a..._prepayment_ for what I need for my services._ And with that, Itachi had been taken without mercy, at thirteen-years-old by a man that was all but immortal and older than the Hokage himself. He had been taken, consumed, and torn apart, even though he had vowed to himself that even if he was ever captured by an enemy, he would not be taken in such a way.

He had been thrown against the rough bark of a tree, his black Uchiha shirt keeping the pale and tender flesh of Itachi's back from being shredded. His head had hit the trunk of the oak, making him see stars in the dusk surrounding him. Since Itachi had been so much smaller than Madara, he had been lifted up to where his feet couldn't touch the ground beneath him, and to keep himself from choking to death from the large hand wrapped around his throat, he had been forced to wrap his slender and almost feminine legs around Madara's waist to keep himself raised just enough to get a small amount of air into his lungs.

He had been told throughout his life exactly what to do if as situation such as this came about. Ninja Guideline 146: _If a shinobi or a kunoichi is taken hostage by a more powerful and accomplished shinobi and put into the position of being forcibly raped, the best solution is thus: relax all muscles to avoid tearing or more serious injury, do not struggle to keep from becoming injured in a compromising way, and clear the thought process to avoid becoming affected by the situation; these three things can help a shinobi or a kunoichi keep a level head and possibly escape from their captor with a rational and successful mindset._

And so that was what Itachi did. He had relaxed his body, had let his mind focus on the most effective solution about the offer of joining the Akatsuki instead of committing suicide, and he did not struggle against the harsh and brutal fuck that he had been subjected to by a member of his own Clan. Even though Madara's free left hand had torn at his shinobi regulation trousers while the other had clenched Itachi's throat without compassion nor care of his life, he had not let himself be affected by the fact that it was his own family blood that was raping him, a thirteen-year-old male that was physically a child but mentally older than the world itself.

There had been no preparation, no warning, and no lubrication, before Madara had entered him without pity, and with a dull ripping sound that Itachi refused to acknowledge, the blood had flown. It had trickled in slowly congealing drops of vermillion the exact shade as the Sharingan that was glittering in that single hole in Madara's mask, and so Itachi had closed his eyes and had focussed on something else.

It had lasted and lasted, and then he had been left there, blood and seed moving in slowly congealing drops down his legs, his entire body on fire and yet cold, so very cold. He had redressed himself and then went home, thinking and planning.

He had ended up devising a solution. Have Madara help under the guise that he was going to escape with him, but instead killing himself at the end after alerting the Hokage of Madara's existence. It didn't work out that way; as he had stared at his crying little brother and threw that first shuriken, watching as it missed with dead eyes, he had known that it wouldn't work, that he was too weak to do it. It had ended up going the other way, Sasuke living and himself leaving with the man that had _taken_ from him.

Itachi had been thirteen when he had lost everything.

**-Owari-**


End file.
